


Brazen

by bazinga01



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-12 14:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazinga01/pseuds/bazinga01
Summary: She thinks that she could get used to bantering and trading smiles with Kat, which should’ve been her first warning.(an Adena POV story spanning 1x01-1x04. familiarity with the content of these episodes is assumed for narrative comprehension.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Adena's comment in 1x05 about her feelings for Kat being "not entirely friendly," implying that she's been interested in Kat almost from the start.

She is at the corner market near her apartment building, buying eggs for a recipe last minute because she forgot that she ran out, when she sees a copy of _Scarlet_ by the checkout counter and decides not to let them run the article.

She sees the blonde white celebrity, framed by blurbs about the latest trends in America, and it hits her that this is the wrong platform to publicize her art and to share about the complexities of her life. There isn’t enough room for nuance and serious dialogue on a platform like _Scarlet_ , even if they do have a decent reputation for political engagement among their demographic.

So she calls the representative from _Scarlet_ and she tells them, and everything is fine for a few days. It’s fine, and she’s mostly forgotten about it, until a young woman that she doesn’t recognize strides into her studio like she belongs there and starts questioning her decision.

The woman says, “Then let me get right to it,” and starts asserting herself without even bothering to ask why Adena made the decision in the first place. She is brazen and presumptive, and if Adena wasn’t so annoyed she’d be a little impressed by her determination.

She wants to say, “You’re not feminist if you’re jumping to conclusions about me and my motivations, if you presume to understand rather than ask.” But instead she’s caught up defending herself against accusations of cowardice, and she knows nothing fruitful can come from a conversation already so clouded with bias.

Kat Edison is beautiful and headstrong but she has far too much nerve, and she can see herself out.

 

Somehow she ends up back at _Scarlet_ anyway, willing to indulge them. She blames it on the beautiful and headstrong part. Kat meets her in the lobby and doesn’t waste one minute before making her case about the politics of the magazine. She is relentless, and Adena tells her as much.

She still has the same concerns about not being heard. If she can’t trust _Scarlet_ to avoid making assumptions about her motivations, how can she trust that they won’t also misrepresent her story? That they won’t filter it to fit a palatable American narrative?

Her stream of consciousness comes to a screeching halt when she glances through the tall glass of the conference room and sees several women inspecting a diversity of sex toys.

“What is going on in there?” she splutters, watching Kat smile and explain that it’s a focus group. She thinks that Kat is making assumptions again, expecting Adena to be uncomfortable.

She tells herself it is purely out of intention to correct Kat, and not at all a flirtatious act to get a read on her, that prompts her to disclose her own illegal darings.

She knows she shouldn’t feel such a thrill when she says, “that is why I do not respect that law” and renders Kat speechless. But she does, oh, she really does. There is something about the look on Kat’s face that Adena has seen before, has seen in women whose leanings are not exclusively heterosexual. It’s a dangerous game that she futiley assures herself is only friendly.

The problem is that Kat indulges it, recovers from Adena’s words and issues a challenge to keep the upper hand. When Kat folds her arms across her chest and says, “So you’ve snuck them into the country before?” eyebrow quirked and looking all too intrigued, Adena is left smiling and further pulled into conversation.

She thinks that she could get used to bantering and trading smiles with Kat, which should’ve been her first warning.

 

It’s not so much that she has a burning desire to sneak vibrators past customs in Tehran so much as it is the principle of the matter. Kat asks her if she wants to like she expects Adena to say no, and honestly she likes the idea of it so she agrees. It has nothing at all to do with getting to spend more time around Kat, or with proving a point.

When Kat arrives at her apartment that evening, her previous bravado is gone, replaced by a softness and uncertainty that draws Adena in and fills her mind with questions. She isn’t sure that nervous is the right word, but Kat seems less sure of herself than before.

Eventually they settle into a rhythm, seated next to each other and breaking apart the components of the toys as much as possible.

“So, tell me about the photo shoot you’re doing there,” Kat says, handing over another silicone piece to stow away. Their fingers brush for a moment and she’s distracted by the contact, looking down at her suitcase while she collects herself.

“It’s, ah, a collaborative project about women who are attending university. In recent years there has been an effort to restrict women from admission and from certain subject areas. They have been implementing gender quotas for different areas of study. I will be photographing some of the women who have been impacted by these policies.”

Kat meets her eyes, soft smile on her lips, when she says, “That’s incredible. You’re…you’re incredible.” And is, is she blushing? It could be a trick of the low lighting, but it certainly seems as if… “I, um, I respect that you don’t want _Scarlet_ to publish the article about you and your work, even though I think it’s a bummer. But I feel pretty lucky that I still get to hear and learn about it from you. So, uh, thanks. For that. For sharing with me.”

A charged silence flits between them for several long seconds before Adena ducks her head, smiling as she scratches at the side of her neck.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” She has no good reason for asking, none except the desire for validation that some kind of silent exchange is happening in this room right now. It shouldn’t matter, it _doesn’t_ matter, because there’s Coco. Coco, who has been immersed in her own work, whose mood swings have been increasingly worse and hurtful lately, who isn’t even planning to see her off to Tehran tonight because she’ll be back in just a few days anyway.

Kat says “out and proud hetero” like an apology, _with_ an apology, and Adena doesn’t know her well enough to push back. She doesn’t have the kind of mutual rapport and trust established to feel appropriate in responding, “ _are you sure?_ ” and instead settles for, “it wasn’t a come on.”

And yet when Kat responds that she gets the whole girl thing, she really does, Adena has to fight back a smile. Because Kat is being so earnest and so honest, and Kat deserves to be taken seriously for what she is expressing as her truth at this moment in time. Though she is coming to know Kat as the woman who loves to push and pull in conversation, Adena senses that this is the wrong place to push.

She is so consumed in reading Kat’s body language that she is briefly surprised when Kat changes the topic and asks her about the hijab.  

 It is Kat’s honest and careful questions, and her absolute acceptance of Adena’s answers, that confirm there is in fact much more to Kat than she originally assumed. She wishes that her judgment hadn’t been so hasty, even as she wishes that Kat had been more patient and willing to learn from the start. It seems as though they’ve both made some errors.

Kat tells her that she’s good at making people uncomfortable, all nervous smile and intense eye contact, and it’s almost too much for her to bear. She wonders if Kat has any idea what she’s doing to her right now, if she has a habit of acting like this around gay women. Adena has so many questions but none of them feel appropriate right now, and so instead they are shaking hands and making goodbyes.

When she tells Kat that she can run the article, her answering smile is all the proof Adena needs that she’s made the right decision.

 

She is detained at Imam Khomeini International Airport for 17 hours when they discover the contraband. She refuses to cry while she is in holding. She also refuses to admit fault. She saves her tears until she arrives safely at Farah’s house, and even then she waits until after she’s contacted Kat. Adena knows she’s probably scared her, and Kat deserves to hear from her that she is safe after all that Kat did to help her get released.  

She tries not to read into the happy relief she hears in Kat’s voice, tries not to fixate on how good her name sounds spoken by Kat halfway around the world. She fails.

She promises to stay in touch with Kat about how the photo shoot goes, and to tell her when she is stateside again.

It’s only when she is under the covers of Farah’s guest bed, and silence settles over the room, that the tears leak out of her eyes, down her temple and into her hair. Home is a complicated notion these days, a comfort that never quite belongs to her. New York City, and all of the ways that it is hostile to her existence, cannot ever truly be home. But there is nothing simple about being back in Tehran either. Home is always embattled, no matter what part of the globe she’s on.

 

The next day is chaotic, after all the delays to her work caused by being detained. She finally settles down to relax, late in the evening, and just a few minutes later her phone buzzes against the desk.

The longer she stares at Kat’s photo, the more enthralled she is and the more she has no idea what to say. It’s not even that she’s technically topless without the emoji, which was _totally_ unnecessary. It’s the words. _You touched me here._

She hears Kat’s voice saying “out and proud hetero” but she sees “ _You touched me here”_ and tries to figure out how to interpret the photo platonically. She remembers her own words, remembers telling Kat it’s more about _this_ , gesturing to her heart when talking about her attraction to women, and can’t understand what else Kat could possibly be implying.

Is Kat flirting? Do straight women in America send other women pictures like this? Does she always photograph that beautifully? Would Kat let Adena photograph her?

Her thoughts are mercifully interrupted by an incoming text, obscuring the picture, and she swallows when she sees that it’s Coco asking how the shoot went today.

She doesn’t answer Kat. The picture is seared into her mind for the rest of the night anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd originally intended for this to be a one-shot covering 1x01-1x04. Then I got up to this word count on just the first episode and realized it deserved to be split up. It is my hope and intention to expand it to eventually cover up through 1x04, my own time permitting.
> 
> This is a new ship with not a lot of fics so far, so lots of characterization pieces are still up in the air. Comments and feedback are very much appreciated! Especially from any Persian folks and LGBTQ Muslims, since I am neither. It is my sincere hope to portray Adena as accurate within the fiction as possible, but recognize that my ability to do so may very well fall short because of my differing identities/experiences.


	2. Chapter 2

She never does figure out how to respond to Kat’s picture message, and then she’s consumed with work and reconnecting with people during her brief visit. She doesn’t really want to text about it anyway. There is far too much ambiguity in texts, no way to detect a lilt or pause in someone’s voice. This thing that is happening between her and Kat, whatever it is, is fragile enough on its own without adding text miscommunications.

She resolves to reach out to Kat more directly, maybe by phone call, once she’s back in New York.

 

There is a shooting in London, at a café on the same block as the Lyceum Theatre. One person is dead and three are injured. The shooter is brown. The shooter is Muslim. It is all over Western media, and she is warned by friends in Tehran.

She is due to fly back to New York in the morning.

During her layover in Frankfurt, she keeps her head down, keeps to herself as much as possible, silently prays as she goes through security. There is always the same look when she shows her Passport, and today is no different. She can’t tell if the response is worse or if it’s just that her senses are heightened. She breathes only slightly easier once she’s seated on her plane bound for New York.

At LaGuardia, she makes a decision. She warns Coco first, sends her a text. Then, once she exits her plane but before she reaches immigration and customs, she finds a bathroom. She holds her smartphone under the sink’s stream of running water for several seconds, and then she trashes it.

Surveillance has been bad for years now. But today, she is not taking any chances.

 

Coco meets her at her apartment, and it is moments like this that remind her why they are still together, despite their problems. Because Coco understands and Adena doesn’t have to explain. She can curl into her neck and sigh with exhaustion. She can say, “ _the airports were terrible_ ,” in her own language, and Coco understands. She understands not just the words but also the fullness of the meaning behind them, and Adena can breathe.

The passion is always waning. But the comfort, on the good days, is an anchor.

She settles back into life in New York. News of the shooting in London has faded into ISIS theories and has been replaced by news of the latest staffing scandal in Washington. It helps that she has a gallery opening to focus on, for her most recent work in America.

Adena goes to the gallery space early the next morning and begins arranging the installation of photos. There is something so satisfying about seeing it all come together, staging each photo and with it the story that it holds. She remembers all of them. The consultations that lead to the women coming to her studio, the words they exchange as she snaps different shots. Every one of them has a story to tell, a truth to communicate, and it is a healing process to be able to stage and share these stories after the week that she’s had.

Around early afternoon, as her stomach grumbles and protests for a break, she realizes that she still needs to replace her phone.

 

Her last phone back-up predates meeting Kat, which she discovers when she tries to pull up her number on her new phone and realizes that Kat’s name isn’t there. The disappointment hits her harder than she expects, and she realizes that she misses a person that she hardly knows.

 

She goes home to change, refuses to show up at Scarlet (in front of Kat) in her gallery work clothes. So maybe she wraps and covers her hair in her favorite material of red because red is a good color on her. And maybe she spends several more minutes than usual picking out the right jewelry. Scarlet is a fashion magazine, and if she is going to show up without notice, then she is going to look her casual best.

When she gets to Scarlet’s headquarters, the desk assistant asks her to have a seat while they locate Kat. Except that she can’t. Because she’s suddenly buzzing with excited nervous energy, and instead she leans against the counter, flipping through a magazine and trying not to glance around for Kat’s approach. She worries over how to start the conversation.

_Hi Kat. I’m sorry you put yourself out there and I never answered you. But I’m back now. Unless..you didn’t mean anything by your message?_

No.

_I hope it’s ok that I just showed up here like this_.

Maybe.

Then Kat is rounding the corner clutching her phone, eyes wide and happy, and all she manages is a delayed, “Surprise.”

She stands in place, uncertain, but Kat is approaching her, Adena’s name on her lips, and she realizes that Kat is as uncertain as she is. She’s trying to offer a handshake like she knows the very idea of it is silly but isn’t sure if she’s allowed to go for a more intimate gesture.

When Kat’s arms wrap around her, clutching her back with a relieved “oh my god” spoken against her ear, she feels far more at home than she should. Kat’s grip is sure, like she doesn’t want to let go, and Adena would be content to stay right here.

None of it makes sense, the intensity and immediacy of how she feels around Kat. All she knows for sure is that she thinks Kat feels it too, even if she is struggling to name it. Even if she is too nervous to name it.

But Adena hears it anyway, in the way that Kat tries to downplay the picture when Adena mentions it. She hears it in her faked nonchalance, in the embarrassment that only comes from putting yourself out there and feeling like you’ve been shot down. Kat communicates more in how she reacts to Adena’s admission of receiving the picture than she probably realizes.

So she says, “You touched me here, too,” with as much sincerity as she can convey, and hopes that Kat understands. It’s as close to “ _I feel it too_ ” and “ _I missed you too and I don’t know why_ ” as she can get without saying it, without rupturing this by admitting its existence.

She lets the admission hang in the air for several seconds, only speaking again when it’s clear that Kat is too nervous to respond.

She invites Kat to her show and doesn’t think until later, when she is arguing with Coco about moving to Paris, that maybe she shouldn’t have.   

 

When she wakes up on Thursday morning, the bed is empty beside her. She shrugs on her robe and pads her feet into the living room, only to find Coco crying on the sofa and clutching a mug of tea. The tears illicit anger more than worry or sympathy, because she knows they are meant to guilt.

Adena is not ready to leave her work and her life in America, but Coco is. And what Coco wants, she expects to get. Coco wants her in Paris.

“My show is at 7:30 tonight at Studio 86,” she says, breaking the silence. “I do hope you’ll be there to support me.”

She shuts the bathroom door behind herself before Coco has a chance to start a fight with her, and knows that Coco will be gone for work by the time she finishes showering and getting ready.

Not today. Coco will not ruin this day for her.

 

The printed photo of Kat is the only photograph that she has yet to set up in the gallery. She puts it in one spot, then stows it away again—only to pull it out an hour later and stage it in two different spots. She eventually settles on the southeast section of the gallery room, off to the side, and hopes the gesture will be received well by Kat.

She wants Kat to feel heard, in a gallery room full of women who have shared parts of themselves behind the lens. She wants Kat to know that she respects her, and that she trusts her enough to make Kat a part of this.

It is only once she’s changed into her outfit for the event, and she hears people begin filtering into the gallery, that she realizes she cares more about spotting Kat’s face in the crowd than she does Coco’s.

 

Kat is standing at the other end of the gallery, in heels and an outfit that fully exposes her collarbones, and Adena can’t remember the last time she felt this flustered. She is acutely aware of Kat’s presence in the gallery, even as she chats with all of the people who have come to see her show.

There are several moments where she thinks Kat is about to approach her, only to catch sight of her pulling back and walking elsewhere. Adena wonders if she should just approach Kat herself, but she can scarcely make it a couple of meters through the gallery without someone else starting a conversation with her.  

Coco arrives at 8:15. She’s late but she is here, smile on her face and looking genuinely proud of what Adena has done. Coco’s hand is on her hip, and she is caught in the pull of her girlfriend’s loving affection, impossible to resist when it is available to her.

Coco kisses her and whispers, “ _tell me about this collection_ ” like she hasn’t had countless chances to ask about it for weeks now. But Adena complies, stroking her thumb across the top of Coco’s hand as she pulls her through the gallery.

 

It is nearly nine o’clock when Kat finally approaches her. Coco is outside, smoking a cigarette and catching up with a mutual friend, and Adena is distracted by Kat all over again. There’s no denying it anymore—she is definitely attracted to Kat.

Words flow out of her, about the show, about sharing Kat’s picture, and it is only because Kat sounds so nervous that Adena manages to focus at all. She thinks that this brazen beautiful person is about to name the unnamed _thing_ between them, and she draws in a slow breath, makes the mistake of meeting Kat’s eyes. She can see it, that the eye contact is Kat’s undoing, and Adena watches as the confession gets masked and molded into a compliment.

Adena wants to interrupt her, to tell her to be brave, but she cannot bring herself to encourage truths that she is unprepared to handle. Because Coco is outside and could be back any minute, and Adena has no right to any of this.

So she smiles. And she thanks Kat. And she tries in vain not to stare at the soft expanse of skin just below her eye level.  

Kat, if she is ever brave enough to speak her heart, deserves a part of Adena that is brave enough to answer.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope and intend to do one more section after this to cover up through 1x04. Again, my own time permitting. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are always much appreciated! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: islamophobia related to the scene shown in episode 1x04

There is a ghost of a touch on her hip, a gentle caress of fingertips against the skin where her sleep shirt has ridden up. They trace in delicate patterns, down to the seam of her underwear, then curving up and over to her navel.

Warmth flows through her limbs and she revels in the touch, blinking against the rays of sunrise breaking through the curtains.

The touch becomes more insistent and she turns, is met by deep brown eyes and a cascade of curls against her shoulder and neck.

Kat quirks her lips, a silent little half smile, and then ducks down to press a slow kiss into the curve of her jaw, trailing down behind her ear. She feels the graze of teeth, the tentative flick of tongue against the sensitive skin there, and shudders. There is a hand against the cotton of her underwear, fingers stroking at the damp fabric between her thighs.

“ _Please.”_

The blare of an alarm cuts through the air and she blinks her eyes open, jerking awake. Coco groans, shifting under the covers beside her, and silences the alarm to snooze.

Adena lays still, attempts to calm her racing heart as she stares at the morning light filling her room and realizes what just happened.

Warmth stirs low in her stomach, unsettled but not yet dissipating, and she squeezes her eyes shut, tries to force out the images in her head.

But all she sees is Kat, far more intimately than she should, and she knows that returning to sleep is an impossibility.

 

She immerses herself in work that day. She begins sorting, processing, and editing the photographs from her trip to Tehran. It was work that she had planned to do today regardless, but it also provides a convenient distraction.

Hours pass by and she hardly notices the light shift in the room, the sun making its course across the sky. The more time she spends on her work, the more certain she is that she is not ready to leave New York. She wants to extend her work visa. She wants to stay.

She considers the possibility of asking Kat to provide a character reference. The problem is that she wants to ask Kat the social media director of Scarlet to write the letter, but that requires asking Kat the woman she has inappropriately budding feelings for to write the letter. She worries about burdening Kat by asking her, making her feel obligated, but also knows that a letter from a Scarlet staff person would help her case.

It is not until she finally pulls herself away from editing, away from thoughts of her visa, and begins drawing ingredients from the cupboard for dinner, that she notices a text message from Kat on her phone.

The message was sent hours ago, and guilt and worry flood through her when she sees that Kat has been receiving death threats. On any other day she would simply call her, ask her directly about the situation that she is clearly downplaying.

Adena tells herself that it is out of respect for Kat’s boundaries that she doesn’t call her to ask what happened. That it’s not because the things she dreamt this morning are now playing through her mind again and that she doesn’t trust herself to hear Kat’s voice right now.

Instead, she focuses on her work visa. She needs to ask Kat, even if it’s awkward. She needs all the help she can get to stay in New York.

 

Coco wants to sleep at her own place tonight, but she agrees to come by for dinner at Adena’s. They are sitting at the table, in the middle of superficial talk about a co-worker, when Adena blurts it out, before she loses her nerve.

“I’m not moving to Paris. I’m staying here, and applying to extend my visa.”

There is shouting and then there is crying, and then there is her girlfriend finally bowing her head and whispering, “Okay, _mon amour_. Okay. I understand. But I don’t want this to be the end of us.”

Adena feels three years of memories tugging at her, holding her in place, and she cannot bring herself to let go of what they have, no matter how much it is has already been drifting away.

 

Kat is standing on the escalator with her, rambling and smiling and far too pretty, when she agrees to write the letter. She’s not sure why she mentions that Coco is leaving for Paris.

That’s not true. She does know why.

She knows that a part of herself is reaching, to see if Kat cares, to see if she reacts to the information. But it is difficult to get a read on her. They are sitting together, sipping coffee and chatting about _Scarlet_ happenings, when she realizes that Kat may not actually know who Coco is to her.

She is confident that Kat must have seen them together at the gallery, that she must have drawn her own conclusions. She can’t think of any smooth way to say, “Coco is my girlfriend, by the way. In case you didn’t realize that.”

If Kat cares enough to want to clarify, she’ll ask.

 

Kat doesn’t ask.

 

She does reach out about the letter, though, and Adena doesn’t hesitate to meet with her. It doesn’t occur to her that talking about the letter is maybe just a pretense for Kat to see her, until Kat is hugging her, for far too many seconds. Until Kat finally pulls away and there is an awkward lull of silence between them.

Kat clings to her smartphone like it’s a shield, like it will protect her from whatever is happening between them. Kat is here, but she refuses to settle into the moment, to let herself really _be_ here and feel.

There is no reason for Kat to be acting like this, for this confident headstrong woman to be stumbling over her words and trying to hide in plain sight. No friendly reason.

Adena itches to reach out to her, to link their hands and soothe that it’s okay. She settles for prying Kat’s smartphone out of her hands and hopes that Kat understands.

_I know you’re nervous. Just let yourself feel it. Be here with me_.

She worries that she has pushed too much, that Kat will leave entirely, but instead Adena watches the calm wash over her. Watches as she closes her eyes and lets herself feel the notes of the violin, feel the night breeze on her skin.

Kat is beautiful like this, painfully so, and she stares for a couple of long seconds before she forces herself to look away.

 

There is an angry racist white man. She pleads with her eyes, with the grasp of her hands against Kat’s arm, for Kat to let it go. It is far more dangerous to stay, to engage, to pick a fight that she will only ever lose.

But Kat does not understand. There is so much passion and fire in her eyes, and if Adena were not so terrified of the situation, she would be captivated.

She hears the insult, hears _towelhead_ hurled at her in a tone that is meant to make her cower. And she does, she does cower, because the streets are not safe for her and she needs to renew her visa.

Kat does not listen. Kat throws a punch. She throws a punch and then there are sirens. Every fiber of her body fills with dread at the sound and before she has even made a conscious decision, her feet are carrying her away.

She sprints on pure instinct, clutches her purse to her side and turns into the nearest alleyway. She exits at the other end onto a side street and she keeps running, runs until her lungs are burning.

When she finally stops, at least two blocks away, her right shoe is coming loose and the adrenaline is still ringing in her veins and there are tears spilling down her cheeks.

She is alone. So very alone. Kat is at the mercy of the police now and there is nothing Adena can do for her and Adena is alone.

Somehow, her body manages to carry her back to the safety of her apartment. As soon as she is inside, she bolts the door. And then she is crumpling to the floor, sobs shaking through her.

New York is hostile. New York can never truly be home.

 

Kat is not happy to see her. Kat is closed off and angry, and something inside of her shatters. She cannot, will not, apologize for keeping herself safe in a situation that Kat chose to escalate.

Her heart breaks anyway. They are from too different worlds, and whatever might have been blossoming between them, friendship or otherwise—it was doomed to be crushed by the weight of all that is set against her.

 She barely makes it back out to the street before she cries.

 

Someone is ringing the buzzer for her apartment building, and she isn’t expecting anyone.

The intercom for her building is still broken, and she doesn’t want to buzz in an anonymous person. So she grabs the nearest scarf she can find to cover her head, slips on a pair of flats, and heads down the stairs.

It’s Kat, standing under the glow of the streetlight, looking more beautiful and nervous than ever.

With every word she speaks, every nervous pause and shift of her body, Adena becomes surer than ever that she knows exactly what’s coming.

Because even amidst the heartache caused today, a part of her has always known that Kat’s bravery would burst forth eventually. She doubted it today. She did. She feared that this split would be permanent, irreparable.

But she should’ve known better. Because that’s not who Kat is.

Kat is brave, and she is not hiding anymore.

She says, “ _I think I really like you_ ,” like the mere truth of it is terrifying. Kat is taking a leap of faith—being brave, bold— and trusting Adena to catch her.

So she does.

She cups the side of her face with absolute tenderness and she brings their lips together, and she catches.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! Thanks for following along. Yes, this is the end of this story. My intention in writing this fic was to explore the build up of romantic feelings from Adena's perspective, culminating in the kiss that ended episode 1x04. I'm definitely open to writing more for this pairing in the future and very much hope to, but if and when that happens it won't be a continuation of this particular narrative.
> 
> Comments and feedback are always much appreciated! xo


End file.
